TO WRITE: Going from Bad to Better
I left the blogosphere for a number of weeks recently due to some unexpected health problems, and I'm very, very pleased to be back. I'm also relieved that my problems were not of the mental/brain variety -- not only are those every bit as miserable, in my experience, but they are my personal nemesis, my challenge, my dark hole. No, I had gall bladder problems, including some complications, hospital time, and surgery. And I'm fine now.

All of this got me to thinking. . . what pulls you through when you are ill with mental/brain or other physical illness? I was blessed to have a supportive husband and insurance that covered most of the expenses, and I lucked into good doctors in the hospital and the OR. But I realized too that, despite a lot of pain, I wasn't as flustered as the staff seemed to think I'd be. The thing that left me on an even keel was all the depression, psychosis and suicidal times I've been through. I know what pain feels like. I have gotten through before, and I'll do it again. Mental illness has toughened me.

Play with this. . .

Writing continuously for at least 20 minutes total, describe a time you felt seriously ill in any way. Then describe what treatments, people, creative outlets, past experiences, rituals, mind-sets or other factors helped you through. Did you just need a certain amount of time to heal? Did hope or sheer determination help?

Finally, how can you apply these tools the next time you feel significantly depressed? It may be useful to keep a list of these resources in the back of your notebook or another safe place to refer to later. When you need such a tool, write about it for 10 minutes first to remind yourself how it feels, reengage with it, and plan how to put it to its best use.

TO WRITE: Who are You on Meds?
This morning's New York Times features an essay asking: If you've grown up on antidepressants, or even been on them a long time as an adult, do you still have a sense of who you are?

I know my mood is dramatically better, my thoughts less self-critical and morbid and out-of-touch, on my medication. But after more than 20 years on the stuff, who am I? There are things I notice: It 's very hard for me to feel really excited happiness (perhaps due to my mood stabilizer?) and I physically am unable to cry except in the most extreme situations (Have all those antidepressants pumped me up that much?). But I wonder if there's more.

According to the article, by Richard A. Friedman, M.D., we know very little about the long-term effects of these medicines. The studies generally focus on people's reactions for only 4-12 weeks. The longest maintenance study so far has been on Effexor, and lasted two years. (It was better than a placebo at preventing relapses.)

Play with this. . .
Writing continuously for 20 minutes, compare what you notice about yourself on and off medicines. Consider your moods, your thoughts, your feelings, your bodily symptoms, and how long you've taken these drugs. Do your meds affect you ability to work or study, or your relationships? And do they affect your "sense of who you are"?

Hopefully, you'll conclude that you're heading in the direction that is healthiest for you. If not, talk with your mental health care provider.

TO WRITE: The Term "Mental Illness"

Many of us -- whether we live with depression, bipolar disorder or another psychological condition -- have strong feelings about being labeled "mentally ill." Personally, I'm OK with it at this point, twenty-plus years into my bipolar disorder. But there was a time when that term made me very defensive and conjured up images of complete non-functioning. Fortunately, most of us do function to some degree most of the time, yet this descriptor is often used, particularly by those in the medical fields, I find.

As one trained as a biologist, I think I may actually prefer being "mentally ill" because it indicates that my condition is physiological as well as psychological. That doesn't mean I'm excused from the hard work of striving for recovery, but it helps remind me that it's not all my "fault."

One member of my writing group at Stanford prefers that we discuss our "mental health" rather than our "mental illness," and I think this can be very helpful too, because it is so much more positive -- and because it is more inclusive of those suffering, for example, from a depression that is situational, but not clinical.

Play with this. . .
Have you ever had the term "mentally ill" used to describe you? How have you felt about it? If you bristle at it, do you have another suggestion? And how important do you think this language is in perpetuating or countering stigma?

I'm curious about what you come up with -- leave a comment if you like. And consider whether it might be helpful to discuss with your loved ones or doctor the language used about your health.